


Improbability

by fishmoon



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Young Avengers
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Mrs. Kaplan is Awesome, So Pietro is Suspicious, The Maximoffs Never Have Nice Things, Vision helps, Young Avengers formation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishmoon/pseuds/fishmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was born of my dislike of Hysterical!Wanda and Sociopath!Pietro, and the problems of the Avengers Disassembled and House of M premises. It is an AU: What if Wanda did more than just heal Billy Kaplan's injuries when they first met, and was there when he woke his powers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's a blend of comics and movieverse, as compressing comics-verse timelines into sanity is a thing I don't think I can manage.

She returned from her jog in a contemplative mood, and Steve gave Wanda an odd look as she stirred honey into her tea. He eventually placed one broad hand over hers, and she looked up at him, startled. "You've been stirring the tea for the past ten minutes," he said, hunching his shoulders in apology. 

Wanda touched the side of the cup. Warm, rather than hot. "There was a boy, during my run," she began. "He'd been bullied." She saw his eyes clear in comprehension even as his forehead crinkled. "I spoke with him for a time, and he wished to be a mutant rather than be someone powerless. I told him that being a mutant generally just made people want to punch you more." She turned her hand palm-up under his, giving his hand a light squeeze in thanks.

"I understand that. Wanting to have some sort of way to stop the bullying." Steve looked away, lifting his hand from hers and straightening to stare, unseeing, out the nearest window. She watched his jaw muscles clench, and wondered what memories were going through his head. He turned back, and the distance was gone, a little smile at the corners of his mouth and eyes. "Did he give a name?"

"Billy," Wanda said instantly, then stopped. "No. Funny, he didn't. He just reminded me of a Billy, somehow." She waved it off with her now-free hand, pushing to her feet. "He gave the name of the bully, John Kesler, but never gave his own name."

The smile had faded from Steve's eyes by the time she looked at him again, a crinkle of concern replacing it. "Are you all right, Wanda?"

She shook her head, blew out a breath, and forced a smile. "I'm fine, Steve. Think you're up for some anti-bullying work in local schools over the next few weeks?"

He rubbed the back of his neck as he watched her, then looked up at the ceiling and chuckled. "As long as the world's not being blown up, I can't think of a time I'm _not_ up for anti-bullying work."

"You'll have to make speeches, you know."

"Anything good's got its price to pay. I'll pay that one gladly." He patted her absently on the shoulder before he picked up his mug of coffee and sauntered off. She heard him whistling an old Andrews Sisters standard as he vanished into the depths of the Mansion.

Wanda picked up her phone and dialled a familiar number. "Pepper? Sorry to call asking a favour, but doesn't Stark Industries do some outreach for the local high schools? Could you give me the district superintendent's number? I have a proposal for him. And it'll be good for the Avengers' image..."  


* * *

The quiet whoosh of air escaping the cushions and the slam of the car door next to her alerted Wanda to Steve's arrival back. "It was a good idea," he said quietly, "Reminds me of why I got into this into the first place."

Wanda put a bookmark in her scheduler, though her eye lingered on the address they were headed to. It was at the boy's school. "It's... grounding," she said, finding the right words. "Pietro's going to join us at this next one." Watching him, she saw his head drop a little bit, then a wry smile tugged at his lips.

"Be interesting to see how the kids respond to him."

"You'd be surprised." Wanda looked out the window. "Children who've been in bad situations don't tend to respond well to adults who they think won't understand; they don't trust them."

She felt Steve's hand on her arm, over-warm but solid. "Talking about Pietro and you, or the kids?" he asked, voice serious.

"Yes." The car slowed, and Wanda looked back at Steve. "Pietro is, above everything else, brutally _honest_. Think about that." The door opened just before the car came to a stop, and Wanda was tugged out and into a hug before she could protest. She didn't want to.

"A _car_? How boring, sister." Pietro's amused drawl had its usual effect: Wanda laughed and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm offended you didn't ask me along earlier if this is how you've been handling it. Where's your sense of _style_?"

Steve cleared his throat, stepping around the car and offering his hand. "Good to see you, Pietro. How's Luna?"

Though he didn't let go of Wanda, Pietro did manage to shift her under his other arm so he could accept the handshake. "Presently trying to redesign my costume yet again, an endeavour I will make _no_ attempt to stop." Wanda stifled a snort of laughter.

Their reunions were interrupted by an awkward cough from the school gates. The principal, a comfortable-looking woman in her fifties, gestured for them to come in. Wanda paused by the bench she and Billy'd sat on to talk, and again felt an odd frisson of familiarity. Pietro's arm across her shoulder tightened, and he gave her a quizzical look.

"Something feels... strange," she murmured to him. "And this is where it started. Like there's something waiting to happen." His eyes widened, then narrowed, and he nodded. Wanda felt some of the tension ease at his automatic acceptance.

They were just inside the doors, the principal quietly thanking them for not showing up in costume, when the dull roar of the corridors between periods snapped into chaos. /Familiar/ chaos, as they turned a corner and blue-white light crackled behind a boyish shout. Pietro was already in motion, and Wanda cast an instinctive shield around the boy on the ground, feeling the shock of probability and magic that accompanied her own power, but with an unfamiliar mind behind it.

"Just what's going on here?" That was Steve's Captain America voice, and the onlookers began to babble explanations. Pietro had the taller boy by the arm, his lips compressed into a grim line as he spoke in a low tone to him. Wanda moved to the smaller boy, who had his hand over his eyes, fingers clenched in a fist.

"Billy," she breathed, and he opened his eyes, the irises still blue from his power. Familiar eyes, for all that they were brown when he wasn't tapping magic.

"I... I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Did you do so- no--" His expression crumpled as he lunged away, trying to run, the stylized red A on his backpack making her heart ache.

"We'll handle this." Steve sounded calm and confident, and the look he exchanged with Pietro made her breathe easier. Pietro nodded at her, then arched an eyebrow. She could hear the words plain as day. 'But we'll need an explanation later.'

Wanda didn't waste more time, running down the corridor after Billy.

***

At one point, the school must've been more than a high school. There were swings out on the playground, and that's where she found him, stubbing his toes in the sand, his shoulders hunched. He looked up as she approached, oddly defensive and resigned at the same time. "I guess your gift kinda got wasted on me. Am I going to go to Ryker's Island now?"

"I only healed your wounds, Billy. I didn't give you any power or gift besides that." Wanda stared at him, drinking in the familiar and unfamiliar features with dawning maternal greed. Reincarnation wasn't supposed to leave such traces, but her boys had been created out of something stronger and stranger-- but-- "Captain America and Quicksilver are dealing with it. I came to see you." She took a step closer, crouching in front of him so she could meet his gaze.

He wiped his eyes with one sleeve. "Not much to see, right now. I think I'm going crazy. I nearly killed--"

"No, you didn't, given that Quicksilver was blistering his ears the last time I saw him, and my brother wouldn't do that if he were actually harmed. As first manifestations go, that was pretty controlled." Wanda dug in a pocket and hoped that the packet of kleenex was still in there. Against all probability, it still was, and she saw his eyes widen slightly as she produced it.

"I felt that," he said, and she blinked at him. "Those weren't there a minute ago." He took them all the same, turning them over. "Magic?"

"Not intentional, but probably," Wanda agreed, firmly stomping on the urge to ask all the questions she wanted to. "I've never run across anyone else who uses magic like mine. You are unique." All the things she wanted to say, to ask, to do -- she couldn't, not and risk scaring him silly. "We probably have about fifteen minutes before the Captain comes looking, but I can't--"

"The boy's fine," Pietro called. He was approaching from the school, walking instead of running out of deference for a newly-awakened metahuman of some stripe. He stopped a few paces away, looking first at her, then at Billy, his brow creasing in surprise. "Wanda...?"

She shook her head minutely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to a friend for her opinion on Pietro's likely reaction and phrasing.

Lacking the patience to deal with the aftermath of the nigh-riot in the halls, Pietro'd abandoned the task to Steve, catching his brief nod of acknowledgement before vanishing in pursuit of his sister. He deliberately slowed as he headed into the sun, shielding his eyes before heading for the swings, where two dark-haired figures waited.

The display of power'd been familiar enough for Pietro to be wary, but the brief glimpse he'd caught of the boy's face had brought to mind glimpses of his own in mirrors in his teen years, and the slightly dusky undertone to the boy's New York winter-pale skin was almost as familiar. "The boy's fine," he called, approaching at a smooth pace. 

The boy looked up before Wanda did, relief mixing with the bright-eyed admiration Pietro often saw in Avengers fans, but it wasn't that which had him approaching in a flicker-blur, until he was only an arm's length behind Wanda. The fact that she automatically shifted to block any incoming blows told him more than he wanted to know. "Wanda...?" That was a question. "Who the hell is this?" That was so flat as to be hardly a question at all.

Wanda looked back at him, her green eyes steady, but didn't turn to face him fully. "I have my suspicions, but--"

"William Kaplan," the boy interrupted, then faltered. "... Billy." The pit that'd formed in Pietro's stomach deepened. He knew the names Wanda'd given her sons. There were no coincidences in their family, and never happy ones.

Pietro watched as Wanda's expression shifted. He read hope there, followed by pain, and almost reached to rest a hand on her shoulder, but she continued, "This isn't the time to interrogate anyone, Pietro. Remember how I was, the first time I used magic? There isn't a witch-hunt in this case, with the Captain dealing with the boy and no-one hurt, but it's still a world-turning feeling." She straightened, her back still to him, and offered Billy a hand. "I will _not_ let harm come to you, Billy." 

This seemed too much for the boy: he took a half-step forward and wrapped his arms around Wanda, letting tears fall as she, in turn, drew him close and smoothed a hand over his back. The look she tossed Pietro over her shoulder when he reached out to do something, anything, held enough warning that he took an involuntary step back. There were few people Wanda'd defend against her brother, but he knew that her sons had (rightfully) been two of them. The churning in his stomach resumed, and he felt the beginnings of a headache. Rather than give in and rub his temples, he slipped into Romani, one of the few language he could be sure they could use with a snowball's chance in Hell of being understood by anyone else. "Wanda. What did you do?"

He remembered when Wanda'd been pregnant, and the happiness she'd had with the Vision, and how there'd even been a brief moment of peace with their father, and then the grief of the boys' deaths. It'd taken a long time for Wanda to move through her grief from that, and Pietro'd been helpless to do more than be there when she wanted him to be. Whoever'd done this, whoever was pulling their strings this time... 

"Nothing..." Wanda answered softly in their first language, "... _intentional, at least." They both knew her powers were as much subconscious as anything. "I think this is my William, somehow. Or..." She looked away from the boy in her arms, at Pietro instead, eyes wide and beseeching. "Am I seeing things?"_

He was as she'd claimed: brutally honest. It didn't mean that he couldn't avoid answering questions if he needed to. "There's no such thing as a coincidence." He kept his voice and expression flat. "Not with this family." A thought occurred. "Where's the other one, then?"

Wanda winced and looked away again. "I don't know, but now that I know--" She stopped there. "--We'll _find_ him." 

Passing a hand over his face, Pietro switched back to English, watching the boy. "Kidnap him. Sign him out. Get him sent home early. Whatever. We need to sort this out, and we need to do it in private." No Maximoff -- or Lensherr -- has ever had an easy life.

The boy was either a pawn, or genuine: he looked shocked, but not scared, at the suggestions. If he were genuine, Pietro'd be disappointed to see anything other than courage. "Kidnap...?" the boy echoed, "... uh, if it gets me out of being suspended. But I better call my Mom."

"We're not kidnapping you. We do have to talk to you, thou-" Wanda's voice faltered here. Pietro felt no triumph; he saw how the casual statement of family hit Wanda, though she covered it well. "-gh. Of course. Let's go speak to the principal and the Captain."

* * *

It took time to contact Mrs. Kaplan, and explain the situation in terms that wouldn't have her immediately running down to the school (which she was clearly minded to do, a thing that had Wanda in reluctant sympathy with the woman), and only Steve's quiet assurances that things were under control, ma'am, and Billy's own strongly-worded wishes to go with the Avengers, come _on_ Mom, please, you have no idea how much-- kept her from doing so.

The Mansion was the nearest place with the security and comfort that either of them could trust, and to judge by Pietro's expression, he'd have preferred somewhere far more remote. Wanda fought back the urge to pull Billy to sit next to her on the couch rather than the armchair Pietro'd directed him to, and just drank in the sight of her son, fidgeting and wide-eyed, in the mansion she'd once thought would have been a second home to him.

"So, did you tell She-Hulk, or not?" His voice startled her out of her thoughts. "And why the hell do you want to kidnap me?" The stubborn set of Billy's chin was familiar enough that Wanda almost laughed, but caught herself as Pietro replied.

"Yes, because this is sufficiently terrifying and awkward to be a kidnapping." Pietro was fidgeting nervously, she could see. He had his doubts, but he always did around magic.

"Well, there aren't blindfolds and voice-distortion software, or cackling maniacs yammering about power over my parents, but given that my Mom's a psychologist and Dad's a cardiologist, I kinda doubt there'll be supervillains after me or anything." Billy had a good deadpan, but the effect was ruined by the fidgeting that was a slower mirror of the man across the room.

Pietro stared at Billy long enough to silence him "You could show him the picture, for full dramatic effect."

Wanda knew the one he was talking about, taken by the wife of the farmer they'd stayed with the months before their powers had awakened. The two of them, perched in the back of a ramshackle pickup truck. She pulled it from her wallet and perched on the arm of Billy's chair to show it to him. Pietro was suddenly there, tapping the white-haired teen who could've been a mirror for Billy. "That's me. At your age. If it wasn't already abundantly clear. Are you adopted?" Pietro asked.

Billy was whispering under his breath, a litany of quick words that Wanda only caught the last repetition of: "Iwanttokeepthis-" as magic rose and another copy of the photograph popped up. She didn't jump, but Pietro snatched the photo and its copy and vanished for an instant. It was one of the few things that was _theirs_ that photo, and he protected it. Wanda understood, but fixed him with a look as Billy flexed his now-empty hands and looked up. "I didn't mean to do that. Adopted? Not that I know of, but I mean... I don't... my Mom." His eyes were wide as he looked first at her, then at Pietro. "This is so weird. I mean, magic, and you, and--"

"Pietro," Wanda finally said, deciding to take the easier route and address her brother rather than tackle the explanation of just how weird their family's life could get. "Be kinder to your nephew." Billy jerked at that, and she caught herself before she could reach out. "Please."

Billy raised a hand like a student uncertain of their permission to speak. "I'm confused. I..." He hesitated. "My parents are awesome, even if they're embarrassing." Wanda closed her eyes at that, torn between relief and an odd envy. Someone else'd seen all the things she should've. "And I don't know how they're going to take this whole magic ... thing. Much less the idea that I've got some kind of family in the Avengers."

On the heels of Billy's declaration, Pietro spoke up. "We are testing his DNA ten different ways before he has the dubious fortune of being called that, much less 'son' or anything else of the familial nature." His switch to Romani was a relief and a pain for Wanda. "I know you wanted children, but we need to be cautious." The truth behind the words annoyed Wanda. She didn't want to _wait_ to deal with this. "There are a lot of things this can be. I'd like to rule out the bad before we embrace the good."

"Hey, it's a bit rude to talk around me like that. Besides, I'm fine with the testing. It'd make a little more _sense_ than this just... feeling like it's right." Billy looked a little uncomfortable with the declaration, but that stubborn set to his jaw had returned.

"Deal with it," Pietro snapped at Billy.

It was still a truth she couldn't argue. There were no coincidences for them. "I know, Pietro," she said in English, closing her eyes and bowing her head. "But I'm not going to give up hope that what was lost can come back. Would you, if it were Luna who were lost?"

Both heads, dark and light, snapped to stare at her. Pietro was the first to speak up. "How can you ask me to imagine something like that?" he asked, an edge to his voice that Wanda ignored, intent on her point. "If I lost my daughter and she came back to me I'd question it. I'd question who'd use something like that against me, to make me incautious, to make me let my guard down. And I'd question a miracle, when it's rare that anything _good_ happens to this family."

"I ask you because it _happened_ to me, Pietro." Wanda let her weariness seep into the words, and the remembered ache time'd only dimmed rather than erased. "We have few enough good things happen to us that--" She looked back at Billy, who was looking between the two of them with a dawning understanding in his eyes, and let the sentence lapse into silence.

Pietro flicked his hand in a come-here motion. "We're going to the lab. We're getting a DNA sample, and we're sending you on your way. Kindly don't mention this to anyone. Not that they're likely to believe you, anyway."

Wanda watched Billy's eyes spark with irritation. "Like I would." The flatness was an echo of Pietro's own, though she suspected that tossing that comparison out would just annoy both of them. "I get it, okay? You're trying to protect your sister, but let me tell you this: if someone's using me as some pawn or something, I want to know, too." He'd rolled up his sleeves as he'd crossed the room in a few long strides, and the curious blend of defiance and agreement in his eyes was enough to make Wanda push to her feet and rest a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll go with you. I promise I won't interfere, Pietro, but Billy is under our protection regardless of the outcome." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why Rebecca Kaplan is awesome.

Dr. Banner's calm was a balm to high-strung Maximoff emotions; he promised results in a few days after taking cheek swabs and a few strands of hair from Wanda and Billy. He asked no questions, and gave Wanda a sad smile, murmuring, "I hope you get what you want," and making her heart ache for him. Once, they'd spoken about their dreams of the future, and found a great deal in common.

They were left outside the labs, Pietro looking anywhere but at Billy. "I can leave you to take him home. Or whatever else you might want to do," Pietro told her, folding his arms across his chest. "Call his Mom and tell her the story. Have tea. I don't want to interrupt."

That seemed to wake Billy from his daze, just a little. "I'm fine." The tired defensiveness almost made Wanda smile. Instead, she shook her head at Pietro. The first impulses were dying down, leaving a weary understanding in their wake, and she needed someone there to speak to.

She missed the Vision's presence, but buried that longing deep. As Billy's eyes drooped again, Wanda stepped into Pietro's space and rested a hand on his cheek, dropping into Romani. "Please don't go. I know that you were trying to protect me. Thank you. I ... can't protect myself from this, not so easily."

His face, kept determinedly stern, cracked, hand coming up to cover hers on his cheek. "Always," he said, then stepped away, catching Billy as the boy started to slide down the wall, eyes closed. "It seems you were right. The boy's out."

"You know that this is the safest possible place for him, tonight," Wanda pointed out as Pietro picked Billy up just as he'd have done for Luna. She knew he was not as unaffected as he claimed -- when she'd been pregnant, he'd doted on her in a way Crystal'd never seen -- and so hid the tired smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.

Billy was exhausted enough not to wake as they put him to bed. Probably for the best: his 16-year-old dignity might not have taken it, otherwise. Wanda dropped onto a couch in her quarters, rubbing the heels of her hands over her stinging eyes. She felt the creak of cushions beside her, and let her hands fall. She knew her eyes were red and there were tear-streaks down her cheeks, but they'd seen one another in worse circumstances.

"If the other one looks like me and has super-speed," Pietro began with only mildly-forced levity, "then those rumours are going to have new bite."

The surprise of hearing him make a joke, of all things, had her staring at him before she laughed. Weakly, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "What was I _supposed_ to choose, when it was magic and I barely understood what I asked for save for sons? Twins! Vision, much as I loved him, could hardly contribute DNA to this. So it's... my own. With a little chaos."

"Well," Pietro smirked at her even as he wiped away a tear she'd missed, "At least they'll be incredibly handsome for years to come."

She laughed and leaned into the loose hug he offered, letting some of the tension ease. "Our father's a handsome man, even now," she said, "But I don't want to make his mistakes. I'm not going to take him away from the family who raised him... can you imagine how much worse it'd have been if Magneto'd done that to us?" She froze. "Pietro, how do you even be a parent without second-guessing everything you _do_?"

The pause made it clear that he was thinking, rather than just reacting, to her words. He rested his chin atop her head for a moment before pulling away to look at her. "You pick something, and go with it. It seems to be working so far with Luna. And if you ever realize you're about to do something Magneto'd do, it's--"

"--probably the wrong choice," they finished in chorus, and shared a wry smile. She glanced at the clock. "We should go see if Steve survived the ravening high school horde, and find something to eat. Something to do."

He heard the unspoken 'I'll be fine, as long as I have something to do' and pushed to his feet, tugging her with him. "Right. And the good Captain will more likely understand a 'Sorry, can't explain right now,' better from you than from me, hmm?" He gave her a knowing grin, and she couldn't help the flush that spread over her cheeks.

"Are you hinting that you think I'd like to be more than friends with Steve, Pietro? We may shock you out of your prudishness after all," she teased. "Besides, no. Agent 13 would have my head, and ..." She paused. "We're best as friends, he and I." Summoning up enough mischief to grin at him, Wanda added, "Not that I haven't looked a-plenty."

* * *

Predictably, they found Steve in the kitchen, eating a sandwich, a half-full glass of milk beside him. He looked up as Wanda entered, shadowed by Pietro, and nodded to the two seats across from him. "So I hear we have an overnight guest," he began.

"Just until the morning. His mother agreed-" Under protest; Rebecca Kaplan was a very tenacious woman and some small part of Wanda was relieved to know Billy had someone so determined to protect him. "-to let him stay until he woke, though I'll have to accompany him home tomorrow."

Steve'd risen as they'd seated themselves, and held up two glasses in query. Wanda nodded, Pietro shook his head, and only one glass of milk made its way back to the table. Steve was too polite to eat when others weren't, so he contented himself with his drink. "Could've been a lot worse if I hadn't had my communicator on, and JARVIS caught the sort of talk that other kid was throwing around. I doubt he'll be pressing charges. Same boy who started all this, Wanda?"

She nodded. "And it was the same bully, too. Did the talk go well, in the end?"

"A bully rarely has just one victim, particularly in those sorts of schools." Pietro was fidgeting again, clearly unwilling to be still but doing so for her sake. This was also a subject he cared about. "Did any of the others come forward after the talk?"

"Some. None others with powers that I could tell, thank all that's holy, but still tormented enough." Steve looked out the window. "Seems a bit of a coincidence, you running into that boy again, and him using magic. Did you have anything to do with it, Wanda?" That was the Captain looking at the Scarlet Witch, tactfully, but still checking up on his team.

"Nothing conscious, I promise you that. Unconscious... is why he's staying here tonight," Wanda replied carefully. "Bruce is running the tests. If there's anything more in-depth needed, I'll be sure to let you know."

Pietro tilted his head at her questioningly, and she shook hers a fraction. She wasn't going to explain further. "I'll stay here tonight. Are my quarters still available?" He usually lived out in the city; he trusted far less easily than Wanda did, and being in close quarters with the other Avengers tended to make him twitch after a time.

Steve nodded absently, the intensity of his stare easing as it jumped to Pietro. "You'll always have a home here." His expression softened a little bit. "When're you going to bring your daughter to see us?"

Wanda rose, picking up the empty glass by her elbow and Steve's before running the water to wash them out. There was a dishwasher, and there were robots for picking up, as Tony'd made a deal to avoid all his coffee mugs being thrown out by Pepper, but Wanda needed something to do with her hands to distract her from thoughts of her own (possible) child, asleep in her quarters.

Pietro noticed, but said nothing. She was never certain how much Steve saw, but he said nothing either.

* * *

Billy was quietly thoughtful the next day as one of Tony's cars took them to the Upper West Side. "I'm sorry," Wanda said softly. "This must complicate everything for you."

"Hm?" He looked up. "What, having powers? I've always been different. This... is just more of the same." He looked quickly out the window rather than continue, and Wanda watched him until the driver opened the door.

Rebecca Kaplan was a dark-haired woman with sharp eyes behind square lenses, casually upper-class fashionable in the same way that Jan radiated even in the most relaxed clothing. Wanda couldn't find it in herself to dislike her when she took Billy by the shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. Instead, Wanda waited to be noticed.

"I've been interested in you since you and your brother first joined the Avengers. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Maximoff," Rebecca said, offering a hand. "Will you come in and have lunch with us? I'm afraid Billy's brothers are still at school, and Jeff's shift at the hospital is likely to run late, so it'll just be the three of us."

Wanda took the offered hand with a smile. "Wanda, please." Catching sight of their reflections in a pane of glass, she realized they could easily have been siblings, and some of the knotted worry in her stomach eased. "If it wouldn't be an imposition, lunch would be wonderful."

* * *

Billy'd made his escape rather quickly after lunch, leaving Rebecca and Wanda to chat over coffee. They spoke easily of inconsequential things: Rebecca's other two sons, both younger than Billy; Wanda's non-Avengers-related travels, before Rebecca set her cup down on the table with a decisive click and fixed Wanda with a knowing look. "How much trouble would Billy be in if you and your teammates hadn't been there?"

Wanda set her own cup down. "Another student who'd been bullying Billy and others would have been fairly badly hurt," she admitted. "You seem unsurprised by the idea that he has powers."

The answer startled her. "I knew that if he could find a way to make his life harder, he would, and the only way he could do _that_ would be to suddenly develop powers." Rebecca met Wanda's gaze steadily. Not something many could do; she felt her respect for the psychologist grow. "And frankly, the Scarlet Witch wouldn't have insisted on keeping a random boy, no matter how kind, overnight if there hadn't been some sort of incident that tied into magic." Rebecca's knuckles where white where she held her cup, Wanda noticed, for all that her voice was steady.

"He seems to have similar gifts to my own," Wanda admitted. "Are there metahumans in your family history?" She tried not to lean forward hungrily at the question, not to be too interested in the answer, but she thought she saw Rebecca's eyes soften a little.

"No. My husband's father escaped Germany in the War; my own family had already been settled in New York for generations, but no signs of metahuman or mutant abilities." One beringed hand lifted from the cup. "And moreover, I wouldn't care if my children couldn't pass as human. They're mine." 

The sharp defense was familiar, and Wanda breathed easier, her grasp on her own cup loosening. "I've seen far too many children whose families fear what they can do, and teach that fear to the children, and then the children seize upon the first person who tells them it's _okay_ to be different, without thinking of what else that person might teach them."

"Speaking from personal experience?"

"Not exactly. There were other factors involved. The need to belong somewhere. Family."

" _That_ need has us do some strange things at times. Reach for any possibility."

"Oh?" Wanda's interest was instantly caught, and the same instinct that warned her of a hole in someone's defenses was on alert. She knew Rebecca'd caught the interest, and Rebecca knew she knew, and continued anyway.

"Until Billy came along, Jeff and I'd been told we could never have children." She paused. "I think you're familiar with the pain that can cause, even when the desire for children isn't the central part of your relationship."

Wanda disregarded that badly-hidden prompt, ignoring the stab of empathy. "Something changed, I take it."

"After so long of wishing for it, I'd given up. Started ignoring all the little things I'd done to try to have a child, and ignored the symptoms for about four months -- I thought I'd caught a lingering stomach bug during a trip to Europe, visiting some of my husband's family. That turned out to be Billy. After he was born, none of the problems we'd had before existed." Rebecca studied her over the rim of her mug. "I always thought it a little odd, but it's not so uncommon."

Wanda tipped her head in acknowledgement, then pulled out the old photograph, sliding it across the table with her fingertips. "My brother and I, when we were sixteen."

Rebecca looked at the photo casually, then at the doorway, then back at the photo more intently. Wanda followed Rebecca's gaze to where Billy stood, that stubborn set to his jaw. Rebecca took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "A resemblance is not the only reason you're here."

Wanda took the photograph back. "No." Quietly. "A resemblance, plus the same gifts, and a feeling I've learned not to ignore. I have no intentions, if this proves to be true, of ... taking Billy from you. You're his mother, the one who raised him. But..." She glanced at the doorway, at Billy. "If this is true, I would like to be /something/, even if that's only a help in training."

Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment, and Billy hesitated in the doorway before stepping over the threshold. "Mom--" he began, and lost the words.

"I've... done a great deal of work with children adapting to finding their birth parents, and the need to do so. Like you said, the need to find somewhere to belong." There was a hint of humour around her mouth as Rebecca looked from Wanda to Billy. "And the best outcomes are always when both parents are involved. So, /if/ this is the case..." Wanda saw her swallow her pride for the sake of her son, and realized again that this was a woman she could -- did! -- admire. "Then we are going to have discussion about how and when you're involved, because while I doubt I could stop you if you were so minded... I also believe you're a person who understands the worth of boundaries."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wanda and Steve do not exactly agree on whether kids should be involved in heroing, Billy helps and then admits more than he'd like, and the author bemoans a lack of action scenes. Or plot.

She'd left the Kaplans' home with two business cards and a head more full of possibilities than ever before. One card was Rebecca's, and the other was that of a colleague, since a condition of Rebecca's agreement to training and time with Billy was that they have a neutral person to handle any emotional issues that might arise. 

Wanda had stopped at a little Hungarian pastry shop on the way home, and was toying with coffee when a warm hand rested on her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts. Steve was looking at the cards thoughtfully. "Went better than you'd thought, huh?" he asked, his hand squeezing gently, then releasing. He dropped into a chair across from her.

"In a sense. Rebecca Kaplan is..." Wanda sought the right words, looking out the window at the Cathedral of St. John, then fought off a smile. "... someone who can accept a great deal on faith, and still pull answers out of you."

"Sounds like someone who could be a good friend." Steve glanced around, and because he was Steve, managed to get the waitress’ attention. “Coffee, please. And…” He looked at Wanda, a question in his eyes.

“Two poppy hamantaschen,” she told the waitress, and got a slight nod. The bakery was family-run, with rickety tables and coffee that was neither good nor bad, but they did have good pastries if you came at the right time of day. “I think she could be. But as it is, everything’s still… up in the air, waiting for it all to come crashing down around my ears.”

Steve settled back in his chair, frowning when it creaked protest. He didn’t tell her she was being paranoid, and in that moment, she could’ve loved him for that. Instead, he said, “That’s what Mrs. Kaplan is trying to prevent, right?” He tapped the cards that Wanda’d set on the table. “Protecting her family as well as you, in case?” There was a question beneath the questions, and that was what Wanda stopped to consider.

She was silent for a time, and he let her be. Wanda did not let herself think of those brief bright moments with Vizh and a home up in New Jersey, quiet and comfortable and so full of hope, but this had brought them to the surface again.

In order to accept Billy as he was, if he was hers as well as the Kaplans’, she would have to make her peace with the rosy-toned memories of the past. “... accepting people as they are rather than as we wish they were is not an easy task,” she said, finally meeting Steve’s steady gaze. “So even if he is not the Billy I--” She paused, re-evaluated her words. “He is Billy Kaplan, and not William Maximoff or Lensherr. And I think he is safer in that. No less loved, however, and that is what is important. If it does come tumbling down, however it may fall, there will be that, and Rebecca Kaplan is taking care to show it.”

“I’m beginning to like Mrs. Kaplan more and more,” Steve said, picking up one of the newly-delivered hamantaschen. “Doesn’t put up with any guff from famous superheroines, which means Billy’s going to have rules as well. Hopefully it’ll keep him out of this.” He punctuated his statement by biting into the pastry.

Wanda eyed him over the rim of her coffee mug. She understood his wariness, having seen -- and been -- a teenager caught up in the middle of a battle between forces she didn’t quite understand, but- “I don’t think there’s a way to ‘stay out of this,’ Steve. Not for us, and not for him. Besides-” She gentled her words with a smile. “-I don’t think he wants to stay out of it. He’s quite a fan of yours.” Though Billy’d said she was his favorite. She hid the smugness behind her lifted cup and regarded Steve.

He leaned back in his chair, finishing his bite while letting her words roll over him. He swept the crumbs into a pile in front of himself, then shook his head. “I can’t say that he’s wrong to want to fight bullies.” Wanda’s gaze dropped to his hands, solid and scarred and flattened upon the tabletop, slightly whitened at the pressure points. “Just hoping that the bullies he decides to fight are the sort who don’t want to rule the world.”

Wanda crumbled the last of her pastry onto her plate, then looked up. “On that, we can agree.”

****

A massive claw slammed down where Wanda’d been standing a moment before. She sent its owner flying backwards with a hex, then whirled, cloak flaring, to meet its partner with a shield of pure magic. “And how long will that be?” she demanded over the comms, red sparks drifting down from her upraised hands as the creature tried to batter down her shield. “People need-”

The picnickers began to vanish in a familiar blur. “-evacuation,” she finished weakly, then brought her other hand upwards, dropping her shield for an instant to let another hex through. It proved a bad idea: the creature stumbled, and began to fall onto her. Quicksilver was moving another civilian--

“IwanthertobesafeIwanthertobesafeIwanthertobesafe--” 

About to move, Wanda caught herself as a blue-white shield flared around her, and the creature hit her and bounced off, crashing to the ground beside her. The power was familiar, but not. There was a crackle of electricity underlying the familiar synaesthetic riot of chaos magic, and Wanda wove a tendril of her own magic into it and unraveled the shield as Quicksilver rounded up the last of the creatures. “Where do these belong?” he asked, either not acknowledging the shield’s probable origin, or not having noticed.

“Not here.” She knew her voice was terse. She tapped into the roil of magic again, and sat in lotus to focus. When she opened her eyes, she saw the threads tying people together and to their origins. With a twist of one hand, she seized the creatures’ threads and cast the back to their homes. Then she turned her attention back to the others, narrowing her glowing eyes at one of the threads tied to her. It was suddenly closer.

When Wanda’s vision snapped back to normal, Billy was dangling from Pietro’s grip like an awkward puppy. Pietro hadn’t missed Billy’s presence after all. “All yours, sister,” Pietro said dryly. “Thankfully, I have a few years before this starts.” With a quick kiss to her cheek that did little to soothe her ruffled feelings, he vanished, leaving Billy with his hands behind his back, looking at a point somewhere between her boots and his unlaced sneakers.

Wanda took a deep breath, in through the nose, and out through the mouth. Another. On the third, she felt calm enough to take a step forward and put a hand beneath Billy’s chin, drawing his gaze up to hers. “First. Thank you for the shield.” He brightened, started to speak, but she held up one hand, one finger raised. “Second, when I said I would help you learn, it meant that you would follow both my rules and those of your mother. Which means not running to any new crisis point in New York to try to help.”

“Oh, like you didn’t need my help,” Billy muttered, then immediately clapped his hand over his own mouth, eyes wide.

“This is not the place to have this discussion.” With a sigh, Wanda turned away to lead them home.

****

Massaging her temples where her headpiece normally rested, Wanda settled onto the couch next to Billy, turning to face him and pulling one leg up beneath her. She waited.

He cracked quickly. “I didn’t really mean that. But if people are hurt, that’s what we’re supposed to do! Step in!”

While one part of her heart warmed at this, another felt chilled. “In a normal situation, yes,” she said, “but you aren’t trained for this. Being /safe/… Billy, magic is amazing, yes. Yours and mine, however, is chaotic. Using it like that might grant your wish, but it also might do it in a strange or dangerous way.”

He looked down at his hands, and she bridged the gap, taking his hands in hers, squeezing them gently. “Magic is very prone to the Law of Unintended Consequences. Do you know it?”

“Uh…” He seemed startled both by the contact and the question. He frowned, looking back up at her face. “Where you fix one thing and another breaks because of it? We were studying the whole thing with rabbits in Australia, and--” He shrugged, mouth flattening into a line. “Then why do you use it?”

“Because she’s learned to control it and change the chances of something bad happening.” Steve leaned in the doorway, dressed in his uniform, but with his helm off, shield slung on his back. Billy jerked his hands out of Wanda’s, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m glad you’re brave enough to step in,” he said, and Wanda wondered at the guilty look on Billy’s face, “But punching out of your weight class is easier when you’ve got a plan and a way to do it.”

“Isn’t that kinda… hypocritical of you?” Billy looked mortified the moment after he’d said it, and looked at Wanda out of the corner of his eyes. She gestured to Steve.

Scratching his chin, Steve said, “A bit. I’m not gonna apologize for being a punk from Brooklyn who got into too many fights as a kid. That was my choice at the time. Doesn’t mean I want to see someone else with as many black eyes and fat lips as I had.”

“I’m not from Brooklyn,” Billy blurted out. “I’m-- I mean, I’m just this kid who gets beaten up anyway, so it’s not like--” He shook his head. “It doesn’t feel like anything’s gonna change if suddenly it’s guys with powers trying to beat me up. At least then I might actually be able to do something about it.”

“It does get b-” Wanda began, and was interrupted by Billy pointing at her.

“Don’t tell me that it gets better. That whole thing’s great! Sure, I just have to survive school, then maybe college, and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll be happier? Why can’t I do something about it now?”

Steve’s eyes had narrowed at this, as if a thought’d struck him. Wanda thought she’d had the same one. “You’re right,” Wanda said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that it gets better -- too much not listening, hmm?” Billy nodded warily. “What do you want to do?”

Billy opened his mouth, then closed it, and Wanda sympathized. It wasn’t a question people could answer with certainty when their lives weren’t complicated, much less with the Scarlet Witch and Captain America listening in. “I don’t know,” he said, shoulders slumping. “I want to make things change, but I’m also really scared of everything. I mean, that bully? I was so happy when he found someone else to beat up. But I’m sick of running away from things like that, and the Avengers’ve been my heroes forever, I even used to collect the trading cards and I still follow the AvengersSightings hashtag. And I thought maybe if I could have powers then I could somed… I want to be an Avenger someday.”

Wanda had no time to react to this, as Bruce edged into the room, fidgeting with a stylus. Steve didn’t appear surprised. “It’s not as fun as you think,” he said, “But sometimes it has interesting parts. I’ve got some news for you.”

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate everyone who's read and enjoyed this. I'm concerned for my characterization -- I don't have a beta-reader to whack me with a book and say "They wouldn't say THAT." -- so I apologize if I mis-characterized anyone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce SCIENCES! at Wanda and Billy, a time-traveler meddles, and we get hints of what might happen next.

The labs were heavily-shielded, mostly thanks to Tony’s love of blowing things up. Prior to Billy’s arrival, she’d spent the most time down here when Vision had been damaged. He was still here, recovering from an attempt by Ultron to override his programming, but Wanda had not been a welcome visitor. 

She shook herself out of her reverie, and caught Bruce looking at her knowingly before he gave her one of his gentle little smiles and turned on the projector. “I’ve never had the opportunity to sequence your genes, Wanda,” he said, so blandly that she fought back a laugh. “But it was an interesting project, especially looking where your mutation emerged--” He broke off self-consciously, fidgeting with the remote. “So. Mutations and the human genome.” He gave another of those gentle smiles to Billy, who was sitting with his arms folded over his chest. The teen relaxed a tiny bit, some of the preoccupied defensiveness easing. 

“Most common mutations don’t actually affect humans in any particular way: you could say that we’re all mutants in that sense. That said, capital-M Mutants tend to have biochemical mutations that have no phenotypic -- or visible changes in the human body -- differences, with exceptions.” He clicked the remote, and an image of Angel appeared on the screen, side-by-side with a shot of Mystique. Billy shifted uncomfortably.

“Given that mutants tend to express their powers in their teenage years, most are environmentally-triggered, usually due to the chemicals of stress. That seems to have been what triggered yours, Billy?”

He sat up straight, clearing his throat and jerking his gaze away from the picture of Angel. “Um. Yes, Mr. Banner.”

The display changed, this time rotating into a double-helix that both of them recognized. Bruce zoomed in. “When a baby’s made, genes are usually shuffled, like a deck of cards, so we test by comparing what sequences were copied. There are other tests as well. For example, mitochondrial DNA, or mtDNA, is transmitted by the mother, unshuffled, to all her children. It’s how we tracked the migration of people out of Africa and still track matrilineal descent. It was one of the tests I ran.”

He paused, looking down at his remote again. “We have found different groups based on different mutations in the mtDNA, and they’re called haplogroups. It’s still a developing field, and fraught with accusations, as is a lot of genetics-- anyway.” Bruce looked first at Wanda. “You are part of haplogroup U3.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Romani groups, mostly.” He turned to Billy. “Rebecca Kaplan is haplogroup K. You are, however, haplogroup U3.”

Billy’s hands were white-knuckled on the sides of his chair, but Wanda didn’t dare touch him. “So,” he began slowly, “that means that I’m not related to my mom? And that I’m kind of some weird… surrogate-birth-son?” He stopped clutching his chair, gesturing to his chest, then flinging a hand sideways at Wanda. She could feel the panic swirling around him, and was already moving when Bruce crouched in front of Billy.

“No.” The one word was calm and firm, and Billy settled a little, though his eyes were still suspiciously bright. For all his fears, Bruce would have been a good parent. “You are related to your mothers -- both of them. This can happen even without the involvement of chaos magic.” He smiled again, and Billy relaxed further. His tone was droll as he continued, “There’s a reason that the Scarlet Witch is not allowed down here during delicate experiments, or ones that involve proving a rare probability.” Bruce glanced at her, and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Oh, and you weren’t grateful that you wound up with that pure a version of Unobtanium?” Wanda shot back, and was encouraged by a faint laugh from Billy. “But this is something related to what we were talking about earlier, Billy. Unintended consequences.”

“Yeah. No offense, this is as weird as hell. Kind of cool, though. Can you teach AP Bio at my school?” The last was with a cheeky, if strained, grin for Bruce. Billy took a deep breath. “Okay, moving on. What’s the _rest_ of the weirdness?”

Bruce stood up, turning back to the displays. A wave of his hand shifted it to another screen. “I don’t think the school board would be willing to certify me as a teacher, unfortunately. While your mitochondrial DNA is _not_ a match for Rebecca Kaplan’s, you do share many sequences with her. So you are her son as well -- no fear of losing your heritage. You just gain another. Regardless-” He turned to another display, this one of a sequence of letters and numbers. “Wanda’s mutation is largely located here. It’s one of the sequences that copied over to you, with some oddities-” He paused. “-not dangerous, but it might be related to just how you were, err…” Another pause. “Originally conceived. _How_ did that work again, Wanda?”

Wanda arched an eyebrow. “When one person loves another, there are interesting methods to show it-” She glanced sidelong at her son.

Billy was slowly turning red. Perfect.

“-but without an addition from Vision-” There was a choking noise from Billy. “-I used the excess magic to create them both… well.” She broke off there, thinking back to seeing her children being absorbed back in Mephisto. She faltered, then said, softly, “I think you would simply call it shuffling my own DNA?”

“Oh, like an asari!” Billy exclaimed, then coughed. “It’s… from a video game. Never mind.”

Bruce’s eyebrows were nearly in his hairline, but he shook his startlement off and moved onwards. “Regardless, some of that shuffling seems to have remained, and merged with natural conception methods. There’s been some discussion of creating triple-parent embryos before, but in this case, it seems you’ve been a few steps ahead of cutting-edge science, Wanda.” 

“Tony would call it cheating on so many levels,” she sighed.

Briefly, Bruce’s lined face was transformed by a sly smile. “I can hear the spluttering from here.” He cleared his throat, and his expression slipped back into his usual bland neutrality. “All of this boils down to, quite simply, yes, you are the son of the Scarlet Witch. You are also Billy Kaplan, son of Rebecca Kaplan.” He cleared his throat, turning back to the display and closing it down with a swipe of his hand. He glanced back, and there was that humorous glint again. “Welcome to the family.”

Billy didn’t seem to know how to take that one. He was watching Wanda with his head cocked slightly, expression thoughtful. “‘Them both’?” he asked.

“You had… _have_ a twin brother. If whatever reincarnated you also gathered him… we’ll find him soon.”

“Whoa. So I’ve got a gigantic family now. Cool. Wait, do I have to get birthday presents for everyone?”

“... please don’t get presents for your grandfather. He is best off not knowing you exist.”

“How about my… uh. What do I call the Vision?”

Wanda closed her eyes against the sting of tears, then opened them at the feel of a warm hand covering both of hers. “Sorry,” Billy said. “Divorce sucks majorly when it’s a normal divorce. I guess it’d be worse like this.”

“It’s been a long time. And Vision is not the person I married then, through no fault of either of ours,” Wanda reassured him, slipping her hands out from under his and turning the light clasp into a hug. She kissed the top of his head. “I did not forget you. And I am so happy that you have been happy all this time.”

Uncomfortably, Billy wiggled out of the hug. “Yeah, well. Happy enough. My life still sucks sometimes. But you know, you always made it better.” He scuffed his shoe against the floor. “You gave me the courage to stand up to that bully that day, you know. I decided not to run. Still not going to run, either.”

****

Vision had refused much help in repairing himself, with the lack of Hank Pym to intervene. He preferred the cool, quiet logic of speaking with JARVIS and monitoring the readouts when his repair processes allowed him to split the energy. JARVIS had emotions, but they had logic behind them. They were not chaotic, they did not cause logic faults in his programming. 

 

He didn’t really need a body to exist as a sentient, after all. A body brought back memories of it being far too easy to be hijacked, and a rogue process teased at his databanks: _wasn’t this what Wanda felt like with magic, sometimes?_

He quietly deleted it and returned to his serenity, looking over the readouts. He was aware of the tests that Dr. Banner had been running, but the memories and possibilities were distant rather than the faintly-remembered delight at hearing the news of Wanda’s pregnancy. Dr. Banner had spoken to him of it, but he had quickly turned that discussion into one of a newly-released theoretical physics paper.

There had been more instances of creatures out of time showing up across New York. He checked the patterns against historical data, found no correlation. JARVIS dropped a package of information from Iron Man’s on-site sensors into his databanks, and they exchanged hypotheses.  
There was nothing conclusive yet, so Vision shut down most of his processes in favor of repairing his body.

*****

_Time flies like an arrow._

Ensconced in a comfortable chair with a drink in hand, "Victor Timely" watched the monitors from his hidden base near the town of Timely. 

On one, a woman wreathed in scarlet meditated, her power flaring and fading with each breath, echoed by a blue-white power that surrounded a dark-haired boy. 

On another, the buildings were sleek and smooth, and children played with toys that shifted as they shook them. One boy was playing a stimuloid, when some larger children snatched it up and started a game of keep-away.

Still another showed a Roman legion, bristling with spears and shields, wandering the familiar confines of Central Park. This one, he saluted with his glass, then stood, his clothing shifting from early-1900s to purple, green, and blue. He tapped the monitor showing the boy trying to get his synthezoid doll back.

In the next moment, he vanished, and reappeared on the monitor. A moment later, both Kang the Conqueror and Nathaniel Richards vanished into the timestream.

*****

“Oh, this is getting ridiculous,” Hawkeye groaned, staring at the red cloaks of the Romans below. “Do we have anyone who speaks, uh… Roman? So we don’t have to fight the guys with spears and swords?”

Tying Mjollnir to his belt, Thor stepped forward, holding his hands up to show that they were empty. Hawkeye often forgot Thor, while prone to outbursts, was also a prince; he had had diplomacy and training dinned into his head. And he also had the Allspeak. “Fear not, brave mortals! We shall return you to your homeland anon. Does any among you have an item they do not recognize?”

Some of the bristling defense shifted as a man wearing his sword on the left stepped out of the wall of shields. He spoke to Thor, and held out a small, brightly-colored box. “He says it was discovered in a fort in Gaulia, and the gods brought them here through it,” Thor translated.

A swirl of red in the corner of his eye heralded the arrival of the Scarlet Witch. The centurions flinched away, some touching symbols around their necks. Captain America’s gloves creaked as his grip tightened on the shield. “Another?” the Scarlet Witch asked, looking over the crowd. “At least they are easy to return to their homes.”

“This time they actually have the thing that got them here,” Hawkeye called. “And it ain’t from around there, so to speak.”

The centurion was not an idiot by any stretch of the imagination; he watched all of them, then shook his head slightly and gestured, holding the device out to Thor. 

When he took it, a stark white light flashed, leaving Central Park empty of superheroes or Roman legions.

*****

Across the city, a slimmer, younger version of Kang the Conqueror stumbled out of a portal, shaking his head. “I won’t,” he was gasping. “I won’t.”

He looked up, and his armor chimed, informing him that he was in the twenty-first century and did he require help, as his heartbeat was higher than advised--

Nathaniel Richards shut off the armor, then staggered out of the alleyway, nearly running into several passers-by. “Sorry! Excuse me! Where are the Avengers?” he began asking.

Eventually, he got some help, and found himself staring up at the gates to Avengers Mansion, currently dark and quiet. When he activated the armor, he could see security screens -- easily bypassed by his armor, but he was here for help, not to break in -- and no-one moving within.

There was a whisper through the screens of his armor, and a pale outline of a synthezoid emerged from the grass on the other side of the gates. He turned off the armor’s display with a thought, and the figure vanished. A digital projection into his armor, then.

“You’re the Vision!” he blurted out, and nearly slammed his hand against his forehead. Awesome. “I need help!”

The Vision stayed impassive. “My body is damaged, and the currently-active Avengers are unable to aid you at this time. You are not of this time. Your armor has the same signature as that which transported the Avengers, and moreover, is that of Kang the Conqueror.”

“I am _not him._ I won’t ever be him!”

The emotion did not seem to touch the Vision. “Why do you require help?”

“Because I can’t become him. I need the Avengers.”

“They are not currently available.”

Nate clenched his fists as his armor continued to feed him warnings about his heart rate and blood pressure. “The Avengers are the only ones who have really fought Kang! Give me information to find them!” His armor gave up the attempt to warn him and followed his order: it linked with the Vision’s projection and pulled out information. If the Avengers couldn’t help him, then there was a failsafe program--

He withdrew the armor’s probes with a wrench of will. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “How are you-- whoa.” The Vision’s ghost hadn’t vanished, but had strengthened. His memories remained in Nate’s armor.

“This does not differ notably from my own body, which is non-functional,” the Vision informed him. “I will help you, if you aid in locating and returning the Avengers to the present. I would suggest seeking out these people as yourself, instead of in your current guise. They all have a connection to the Avengers, though they may be unaware of it themselves.”

A map displayed in front of him, labelled with names. Some were as far away as Vietnam; others were in New York City:

_Josiah Bradley_  
Theodore Altman  
William Kaplan 

“It’s a start,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pseudo-science! I did research, but it has been a long time since I studied genetics, and besides, the entire situation with Wanda and the twins was weird as hell from (not only) a genetic perspective.
> 
> If there's anything you liked, disliked, found strange, or want to comment on, please let me know! I'd love to hear it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Avengers are stuck in Gaul, the news spreads to modern-day NYC. This causes problems. Nate puts his plan into motion, and starts gathering people.

School had been a little weird since that thing with the Avengers. Billy hadn’t had to go back until everything blew over, more or less, but people were actually kind of being decent. Whatever Captain America (he hadn’t quite gotten to the point of calling him Steve, and Mr. Rogers was just… no) said had stuck, and people were actually kind of checking their privilege and calling people out on stuff. 

Billy didn’t really expect it to last, but for the moment, he could actually shove his homework and textbooks into his backpack without getting it slammed in his face or stolen. It didn’t stop the teachers from confiscating his phone when he got caught checking yamblr and twitter for news. When he closed his locker, there was a dark-haired guy watching him curiously. Billy jumped, and the guy held his hands up defensively.

“Sorry. I was just wondering if you’re William Kaplan?”

Billy narrowed his eyes. “Yeeeeessss?” He drew out the s, trying to buy himself time to figure out just what the hell was going on.

“This is going to sound crazy, but I really need your help. I’m Nathaniel Richards, and I’m from the future.”

This went under the too-crazy-to-be-lying category, in Billy’s opinion. Maybe Wanda’d know more about what he was talking about. “Oh-kay then. Let’s… go see what all this is about,” he said slowly, edging towards the door. “C’mon. I have to get my phone back first.” Though they gave Nate a strange look, the principal’s assistant did give him his phone back.

He called his mom on the way, leaving a message to say he’d decided to hang out with a friend for a while. Then he sent a text to Wanda that read, _‘Weird kid @ school. Know a Nathaniel Richards? Going to CenPk.’_ He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and wheeled his bike along. “So if this is a trick to get me somewhere and kidnap me, that’s a _seriously_ bad idea.”

Nathaniel held his hands up again, then glanced around. They were in a quieter area of the park. “Look. It sounds crazy, but I’m really from the 30th century and I’m trying to stop my future self from becoming Kang the Conqueror. Or me, I guess. I mean, it’s complicated, and the Avengers aren’t here, and so the Vision asked me to--” A sigh. “It’s easier to just show you.” He suddenly shifted from clothes that wouldn’t get him a second glance in the halls to something Billy recognized from his Avengers fanboying days: purple, green, and blue, with a weird helmet. “I swear I’m not lying. I need your help, because if the Avengers aren’t here, then I need to make sure I can do something more than run away from myself. And you could be a hero.”

Billy’d been trying to interrupt through all of this, but the last part knocked his thoughts askew. “What do you mean, the Avengers aren’t here? And Vision?” Oh, awkward. “And why are you asking me? Not that I don’t want to be a hero or anything, but how did you even find-- oh wait, Vision, right, but--” Billy held up both his hands, more to stop himself than anything else, propping his bike against his hip. “--never mind. I’ll help. Especially if it means that we get the Avengers back.” He paused. “Nathaniel, right? Call me Billy.”

“Nate. Thank you.” There really was no way to feign that amount of relief in Nathaniel’s expression. Nate stopped. “Uh… what do you do, exactly?”

“It’s complicated.”

*****

“We cannot help with the Visigoths,” Thor explained to the centurion. “God I may be, but this is not this time’s seeming, nor may we interfere with this time’s flow.”

The centurion was innocent of whatever’d brought them to the 5th century, but was attempting to recruit them into service of the Empire, attempting to prevent the sacking of Rome. Wanda was listening to as many of the conversations as she could manage, drawing on similar languages and her polygot tendencies. “They’re getting very annoyed,” she said as a quiet aside to Pietro.

“They’ve been annoyed since we got here. Hopefully Stark’s got the time-travel device reverse-engineered in the next day or so,” he murmured back.

She leaned against him. “I’m getting very tired of being an outcast again,” she admitted. The soldiers never failed to clutch charms when she passed by, or start murmuring prayers. “I’ll go see if I can’t encourage Tony’s efforts. Even if he does think it’s cheating and invalidating future research.”

Pietro squeezed her shoulders in a hug. There wasn’t really more to say.

****

Once they’d reached Central Park, they took one of the paths heading for the wilder northern parts, because then at least they’d be less likely to be noticed.

Unfortunately, they were blocked by police tape. “Hey, what’s going on?” Billy asked an officer, craning his neck to try to get a glimpse of what was beyond.

“Sorry, can’t really say, kid.” The officer flicked his cap’s brim back to peer at him curiously. “You another fanboy?”

“Uh…” Billy looked helplessly at Nate, who looked somewhere between confused and amused. “Avengers fanboy? Sorta?”

“Hm.” The officer, whose nametag read Michaels, D., glanced over his shoulder towards the cluster of officers. “Not going to say anything officially--”

“But is it true that the majority of the on-duty Avengers vanished while fighting, of all things, a Roman legion here last night?” The woman who’d spoken up was comfortably plump, pretty, and waving a smartphone around as if it contained the notes for world domination. “It’s news, and the Daily Bugle needs it!”

Billy just felt chilled. If the press had already picked up that the Avengers were gone, people’d be coming out of the woodwork to cause trouble. “... okay, that whole helping-you thing has gotten pretty important all of a sudden,” he said to Nate, turning away from the scene. “Is it just you and me?”

“No, there’re a few others in New York. One’s already at our, uh, base.”

“We have a base?” Billy looked skeptical. It was New York City. Space was at a premium. 

Nate shrugged. “Vision showed me the way to one of the Avengers’ old storage warehouses. I think Hawkeye or someone used it as a cache or bolthole, because there’s a lot of _really_ archaic weapons there. I mean, more than just gunpowder-propelled projectile weapons.” He seemed unaware of the odd look Billy gave him here. “Though it was kind of a neat history lesson. This whole thing would be, if it weren’t for Kang.” The brief enthusiasm sparked by old-fashioned weapons died, and Nate’s shoulders slumped. Billy sighed and bumped his shoulder against Nate’s.

“We’ll figure it out. So, who else is on your list?”

“We’ve got someone with the super-soldier serum - he’s the one already at our base - and then there’s someone named ‘Theodore Altman.’”

****

Nate’s gear was awesome, and Billy had the sneaking suspicion that Iron Man would want to take it apart if he ever saw it, but it was useful for finding information. Maybe it was the ghost in the machine - Vision hadn’t shown himself, but Nate kept saying he was helping out, within limits.

Billy didn’t quite know what to make of that, and there was a little voice in the back of his head (it sounded like his mom) telling him to allow his estranged family to approach him instead of the other way around.

They’d tracked Theodore Altman down to just outside the Avengers Mansion, but when they arrived, Tony Stark was standing there with the kind of teenager that pinged on Billy’s asshole-alert. None of this made sense.

JARVIS was refusing entry to the pair, which was another thing that didn’t make sense. “... retinal scan does not match Sir’s on-record scan; please desist. Your retinal scan has been retained for evidence.”

Tony turned to his companion, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “See. Told you it wouldn’t work.”

“Ehh, what the hell’s a computer going to do to us? The Avengers aren’t here, let’s just hop the gate. I want to grab some stuff!” The Asshole gestured to the gates. “Shit, I bet you could just take it all out anyway.”

‘Tony’ drew back. “I’m not breaking into Avengers Mansion to steal stuff!” He hadn’t noticed Nate and Billy approaching, and neither had Asshole. “If that’s what you want, get lost!”

“You sure about that? You don’t want your secret spread all around school…” And there it was. Billy was familiar with that tone, and already moving forward, grasping the threads of could-be and murmuring under his breath.

It wasn’t needed. Suddenly, ‘Tony’ shifted into a huge, hulking, spiky monster. “Sure. Tell them all I’m a monster. See how far you get with _that_ before you see what a real monster might do.”

Asshole scrambled back, and fled. The monster watched him go, then sighed. “Not like I haven’t got more important stuff to hide,” he muttered, then stiffened, looking at Billy, who had halted a short distance away. “Look-”

Billy shook his head, then held up one hand. It was still glimmering with his power, and looked oddly translucent for a moment. “I was coming to back you up.”

JARVIS took this chance to speak up. “Young Sir, if you would remove the intruder before I have to follow protocol and call the authorities, it would benefit all concerned.”

“Who’s he talking to?”

Billy let his hand drop. “Me. The Scarlet Witch is my-” He hesitated a brief moment. “-trainer. So JARVIS knows me. Look, he’s serious, and-”

Nate approached, wearing something that looked like an Iron Man suit. “We’ve got something to discuss with you, Theodore Altman. We need your help.”

*****

The boy with the Super-Soldier serum turned out to be the grandson of the black Captain America who everyone denied being real (but Billy knew how history got changed depending on who wrote it), and had a chip on his shoulder the size of the Empire State Building. “Found the rest of your list?” he demanded as soon as Nate walked in with Billy and Theodore (who’d been quiet during the trip over) trailing behind him.

“All the ones in New York, at least,” Nate said, with far more patience than Billy’d have. “Okay. Theodore-”

“Teddy,” Theodore interrupted. “Just… ‘Teddy’.” His skin rippled, and there was a square-jawed blond boy standing there in ripped jeans and a white t-shirt, with several ear-piercings. Billy blinked, feeling a bit of a flush creeping up his cheeks.

“... Teddy, then.” Nate took off his helmet. “I’m from the future, and if we don’t get the Avengers back, I’m going to become a super-villain. Everyone here is a part of a list of people with connections to the Avengers, and, I assume, powers. We can get them back and prevent me from becoming Kang.”

Billy perched on a crate stamped with the Stark Industries logo. “I already said I’m in. This is a little too weird to be fake, and the Scarlet Witch is my trainer - I kinda need her back.” He found himself reluctant to say more than that. From Teddy’s expression, eyebrows raised and blue eyes skeptical, he was having trouble with this explanation. To shift the topic a bit, he added, “I do magic. And I do pretty well with electricity.”

“As far as I know, I don’t have any kind of tie to the Avengers. My mom sells real estate and loves her self-help books. Powers - figured I was just a mutant,” Teddy said, shaking his head. He tossed a glance Billy-wards. “I shapeshift. Super-strength, I guess.”

“Any _plan_ for this save-the-Avengers, save-the-future idea?” Eli asked. “Or even how we’re supposed to work together on this?”

Light gleamed from Nate’s gauntlet, outlining a spectral Vision. “May I suggest trying something smaller to begin with? The media has realized that the Avengers are no longer on-site, so to speak, and have been less than discreet in reporting this. The NYPD and FDNY are responding well, but there are things that they are unable to handle.”

“Aaaaand there’s the issue of costumes. And what we’re going to call ourselves…” Teddy shrugged. “Not that costumes’re hard for me. But for you guys…”

Vision spoke up again. “There are numerous artifacts kept here for study or simply as trophies. You may find appropriate pieces to create what you might consider costumes.”

****

“Dude, I look like a cross between Thor and Loki here,” Billy complained, touching the winged headband and staff.

Teddy flashed a grin across the room at him. “Looks good, though.” His skin rippled, and he suddenly bulked out and turned green, the black leather shifting with him. “Doubt you want your trainer’s costume.”

He still hadn’t really explained the whole lost-soul thing to the others, just that the Scarlet Witch was teaching him. “I dunno, I look pretty good in red. The pink, though, pass.”

Eli pulled his hood over his head. Billy’d suggested the proper Bucky mask, but Eli’d said he had his reasons. They knew he was a super-soldier. He grumbled as he picked at the seams of the gloves, testing the fit carefully. “Damn,” he muttered. “Why’d I agree to this?”

Nate had it the easiest. He thought for a moment, then his armor shifted to red-and-silver, reminiscent of Iron Man. “There.”

The wail of sirens brought them out of their startlement. Billy floated upwards, looking out the grimy windows. “Crap. There’s a building on fire.”

Eli stiffened, then snapped, “Let’s go. Nate, you get on stopping the fire. Billy, do something that’ll tell us how many people are still in there. Teddy, you and me -- evacuation.”

The next day, “YOUNG AVENGERS?” was splashed across the front page of the Daily Bugle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand the focus shifts to the Young Avengers for now. I'm at the end of my writing buffer, so the next update might take a little while. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Yes, Yamblr is (according to the second YA series) the Marvel version of Tumblr. I figured Billy'd probably be there.


End file.
